


Downward Spiral

by Terminallydepraved



Series: SWATverse [4]
Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: "domestic", Ficlet, M/M, SWAT-au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-06
Updated: 2018-11-06
Packaged: 2019-08-19 19:50:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,033
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16541066
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Terminallydepraved/pseuds/Terminallydepraved
Summary: Allen is in too deep, and it's only going to get worse.





	Downward Spiral

**Author's Note:**

> got bored last night so i asked yogl what i should write so i did this. enjoy!

This was hands down the worst thing Cain had ever done.

Well, it was up there. He’d done a lot of stupid shit in his time. There’d been that hazing shit in college, then that really stupid dare he’d gone through with while he was in the academy. He’d wrapped his car around a tree back in high school after drinking a bit too much at a party. But somehow even with that cavalcade of stupidity behind him it was _this_ that managed to make him regret most choices that led him to this exact moment in time.

To the moment where he clicked on the damn jockstrap in three sizes too big for himself and hit _add to cart._

It didn’t take long to arrive. A part of him had hoped that it would take a week or two, maybe long enough for him to forget what he’d done and then be so pleasantly surprised by it all that he wouldn’t feel any shame in handing it off to the person—to the _android_ —he’d intended it for.

But, it didn’t. It came within two days and Cain Allen found himself sitting on his big, black leather couch, unopened package in hand. RK900 was off in the kitchen behind him, toiling away with his dinner. He hadn’t asked the android to do that, to fucking… feed him. He could order something, he had said when he threw himself down on the couch after another long day of work. He usually ordered something. Cooking was a thing that happened when he had energy. Most days he didn’t. He’d grown to accept his lifestyle and he made efforts to exercise more to balance it out, but 900… Well, the android hadn’t liked that justification much.

“It’s my duty to make sure that you are in peak form at all times, Captain Allen,” it had said, hands behind its back as it watched him with clear blue eyes. “Please allow me to fulfil my protocols.”

Cain scoffed to himself and pinched the bridge of his nose between his fingers. He tightened his grip on the package hanging from his hand. Could he convince himself this was just another protocol? That this wasn’t something _personal?_

“900,” he barked out, lifting his head before he could let that train of thought derail the rest of his evening.

The sounds in the kitchen paused. “Yes, Captain?”

“Come here.”

No argument. No request for whatever it was to wait until it was finished with its meal preparation. Cain heard the sound of the oven being clicked off and the quiet scrape of a pan being set on a cool burner. 900 padded quietly into the room, barefoot and beautiful, and stood in front of him curiously. Cain sat a little taller. The android was still in its uniform. It looked so out of place when surrounded by the backdrop of his home.

His hand closed around the package. That had been the reason why he’d bought this at all.

Cain sucked in a breath and handed the package to 900. 900 took it, cocking its head like a cat. “Open it,” he said through clenched teeth. “Take it into the other room. Put it on, then come out and finish making my dinner.”

900’s LED cycled yellow for just an instant. It brought the package under its arm once it turned back to blue. “Of course, Captain,” it said, turning on its heel and disappearing down the hall.

The sound of a door closing took the energy from Cain in an instant. He melted into the leather of his sofa and covered his face with his hands. God, this was so fucked up. He didn’t want to think about just how fucked up it was; he wasn’t sure he could count high enough to name them all anyway. He kneaded at his tired eyes and regretted not having the android fix him a whiskey before sitting down. This really felt like a whiskey kind of moment.

But a moment was all it managed to be. The sound of a door opening came again, quiet and yet like a gunshot for all the panic it incited in Cain. He dropped his hands and looked at the hallway, sweat prickling his temple and the back of his neck as 900 slipped back into his line of sight like… like something from a magazine, the dirty kind. Pale skin, long legs, muscles the likes of which no one made of flesh and blood could ever hope to compete with—RK900’s smooth crotch was covered with the scanty little jockstrap, framing his figure in a much more flattering way than the standard-issue Cyberlife briefs had.

Cain swallowed dryly, unable to tear his eyes from the sight. 900 probably knew why he’d wanted this. It walked closer and paused in front of him, letting him look his fill.

“Is this enough, Captain?” it asked quietly, the ghost of a pale blue blush rising on its high cheekbones. “May I finish preparing your dinner now?”

The breath Cain sucked in rattled in his chest. He had to drag his head upwards to meet the android’s eyes. It took longer than it should have. 900 hadn’t put its shirt back on. Its sculpted chest and pale pink nipples were almost as entrancing as the rest of it was.

“Yeah,” he said lowly, voice ragged and deep. “Go make my dinner.”

A bob of the head. 900’s hand went to its other arm to cradle it in an almost self-conscious manner as it turned, moved, and—fuck, the way those straps wrapped around its thick thighs, how its perfect fucking ass just sat framed by it all in a way that begged to be kneaded in Cain’s hands…

Cain didn’t relax until 900 disappeared into the kitchen once more. The stovetop clicked back on. The pan scraped as it was shifted back onto the heat. The imprint of that sight sat stamped on the back of Cain’s eyelids. His pants were tight. His palms were sweating.

 _Yeah,_ he thought to himself as he turned his gaze to the plain white ceiling. _This was a really bad idea._


End file.
